Get Magneto!
by SourXMash
Summary: (Sequel to Freedom Run) Wanda has spent most her adult life living a lie. She has believed her childhood was peaceful and idyllic, but when a confession opens her up to the truth, she begins a search for the man responsible. Wanda is a motivated mutant with murder on her mind. She's going to...Get Magneto!
1. Prologue

Joanna Cargill ran down the hallway of the hideout. The word sounded silly to her as it echoed in her brain. It reminded her of childhood things, couch forts and treehouses. She'd never experienced them personally but she'd read the stories. Then again, if anyone could afford to make childhood excess a reality, it was her boss. She approached his office silently and stood at attention.

"At ease, or whatever they tell you in the army," He said without turning around. His office was spartan, as usual. Not a paper out of place across the metal desk nor a speck of dust to be found. She sometimes wondered where he found time to clean, in between leading a revolution and assembling a mutant army. "You're not defending a nation anymore, you're defending a species."

"Sir, we've been located. I believe she has found us."

"We knew she would, eventually. She might be underhanded but she's not stupid. Did you erase the records?"

"Not a trace. Paper records were burned twice, hard drives were crushed and magnetized. Per your instruction." Her boss finally turned to meet her gaze, his steely blue eyes belied his true age. In his hands he clenched a worn metal helmet.

"You and I cannot fight her alone. Her reach is vast and terrible. She knows no end in pursuit of a goal." Joanna felt a sour tang in her stomach but kept herself steady as she awaited her boss' instructions. "Contact Professor Charles Xavier, use their private band," He scribbled a series of numbers on a scrap of paper and slid it across his desk. "If anyone can help it is him and his team." He turned away again.

"It was Navy Seals, sir. Not the Army." She said, not waiting for an answer before leaving.

"We all have our pasts, Lieutenant."


	2. Chapter 1

Wanda woke up with a start and checked her phone. Her one day to sleep in, and of course she would wake up at this ungodly hour. She suppressed a groan. Beside her, Scott snored quietly and she watched his chest rise and fall several times. She threw the sheets off her legs and shuffled toward the bathroom. She flipped on the light and spat into the sink, still tasting sleep on her tongue as she grabbed for her toothbrush. She stretched, yawned, and slapped at a scar to stop it from itching. When she was done she placed the toothpaste back behind the mirror and grabbed a t-shirt before heading downstairs.

The mansion itself was quiet. The only people awake were whatever group of students had morning exercises, and Logan, who Wanda was convinced did not sleep. As long as there's fresh coffee in the pot, Wanda thought as she pawed at the carafe.

Upstairs she cradled her coffee as she tiptoed past the bed and took a seat out on the balcony, where the sun had begun to peak above the pine trees at the edge of the estate. She sipped at the bitter brown liquid as the younger students began their drills on the lawns below. Wolverine counted off push-ups in the morning dew. As she kicked one foot over her opposite knee and took a sip of coffee the curtains rustled and Scott stepped out clad only in his boxer briefs.

"You're up early. I thought you were meeting Pietro at noon?"

"I am, guess I'm still on mission schedule," Scott turned towards the sound and Wanda studied the scars on his side, healing but still bright pink. A souvenir from their last mission. Wanda reached out and when she traced a finger through the scarred trench he flinched slightly. She set her coffee mug down and wrapped him in a hug, then kissed his cheek. "Still tender?"

"Come on, it'll take more than Kraven to take me down." He interlocked his fingers with hers and kissed her.

"You taste like coffee."

"And you taste like morning breath. Now come on, we've got a couple hours to kill." Scott drew the curtains behind him as they fell into bed.

* * *

Wanda would later find herself regretting ever leaving that bed. Her meeting with Pietro started well, as most meetings with estranged siblings do. They talked about the weather, caught up on movies, made small talk. The moment their father was brought up was the moment that stopped. Pietro accused Wanda of giving up and "consorting with father's ideological enemy," words she suspected he heard on TV recently. It wasn't long before they were screaming at one another and restaurant staff was forced to intervene. Once ejected from the diner, Pietro sped off, leaving Wanda with a long quiet ride back to the mansion with her thoughts rattling through her head. Scott met her in foyer as she shut the door.

"So, you're banned from Karen's Diner."

"Yea, kinda figured that one," They walked into the mansion as Wanda described the events in the diner briefly. "Where does that stuck up twit get off telling me how to live my life? He's still living like a high schooler in his mid-twenties, scared of changing."

"He'll come around. You both take family seriously, but Pietro has never been good at seeing things from another perspective." Wanda made a grunt in the affirmative as the two made their way through the living room and up the main staircase.

"Do you and Alex ever fight?"

"Not really. I mean, we see each other pretty infrequently, even less so now that him and Lorna have a kid. When we do talk we just catch up on the latest, there's not much to argue about. You and Pietro lived together for years."

"That's just it. I have no trouble thinking of ways Pietro and I are different. But whenever I try to remember our childhood it's all laughs and smiles. But If I try to concentrate? I get these headaches out of nowhere. Do you think I'm blocking something out?"

"I have no idea. But I think you live in the right house to find out." As if on cue, Xavier's voice echoed in their heads. Wanda, Scott. Come to the subbasement, we've received a distress signal. It's from Magneto."

* * *

Down in the briefing room Xavier played Magneto's message once, then again. It was brief, a simple request for help and geographic coordinates. Around the holographic display stood Logan, Scott, and Wanda. The coordinates blinked bright green on a translucent display of a globe.

"It's a trap. We haven't heard from this guy in years and all of a sudden we're supposed to drop everything and fly to some remote location? Might as well paint targets on our backs." Wanda's brow furrowed and she made a a low growl. Scott lay a hand at the small of her back.

"If it's a trap what's he trying to gain?"

"Who the hell knows? He's got more angles than geometry."

"Practicing for comedy night?" Wanda snipped. Wolverine sneered but said nothing.

"If everyone has that out of their system, I believe Erik is genuine," Wanda made a small satisfied noise directed at Logan. "But, given our histories it is right to be cautious."

"What if I go? I mean, let me lead a team. He won't attack me." The room fell silent at Wanda's idea. As Logan and Charles traded a glance Scott took Wanda's hand in his. Her face was annoyed but hopeful.

"He will the minute he sees that insignia on your coat."

"If that were true Logan, he wouldn't have contacted us at all. I like Wanda's idea, Logan, however, Wanda, you're still fairly new to the team, and this is fairly personal to you. How would you feel if Katherine led and you ran back up?" Wanda's face was annoyed, but her blue eyes darted between the faces of Logan, Charles and Scott.

"Yea, I guess that would work. But I want to talk to him first." Charles nodded his head.

"Prep the jet. I'll get Katherine and Rogue down to the hanger." Scott and Wanda left the briefing room, walking in tandem down the metal halls of the subbasement.

"You know that wasn't personal, right?" Wanda stopped, and turned to face Scott.

"I know, I know. It's just that I still get looks around here, and then that stuff today with my brother? I feel like I'm cracking up. Sometimes I feel like my whole life is one big hoax," Scott lay a hand on her shoulder, and they kissed. "Guess I've got to suit up and get to the jet. Can we talk when I get back?"

* * *

The jet cruised through the air at supersonic speeds. Kitty was seated in the pilot's seat, speaking to Hank McCoy as he confirmed technical details concerning the trip. Wanda was seated next to her while Rogue was seated near the back, thumbing through a dog-eared copy of The Juliette Society.

"So, we're on schedule for a four o'clock landing. Wanda, I wish the stakes were different but I'm glad we finally get to run a mission together. I'm kind of excited, is that wrong to say?" Wanda smiled in spite of her mood.

"Kitty, I'd be disappointed if you weren't. I'm just in my own head right now." They flew in relative silence the rest of the flight. Rogue kept her nose buried in her book, letting out an occasional sigh or grumble. Wanda fidgeted with her bracelets while Kitty busied herself with the guidance computers. Kitty did not speak up again until they had landed, a deserted corner of White Sands Park in the southern New Mexico desert. Kitty turned on the camouflage as they exited the jet down a ramp.

"Do you know what you're going to say. I mean, you haven't seen him since Apocalypse, right," Wanda shook her head. "Maybe that's a good thing. When you finally see him the words will come right to you." Kitty wrapped Wanda in a deep hug.

"Kitty, someday you're going to teach me how to be so optimistic." The young mutant smiled and took to checking the landing gear, making sure it was locked into place. Movement could ruin the cloaking device. As Kitty did that, Rogue gave Wanda a few words of encouragement as well. The two weren't as close friends as Kitty and Wanda were, but they had still spent several evenings discussing music and horror movies. Additionally, Wanda had a great deal of respect for Rogue. She had her own problems with her powers, but the idea of never knowing human contact? Wanda could only imagine the power it took to live like that. To her, Rogue was one of the strongest mutants she knew.

Kitty finished checking the landing gear, taking Wanda out of her thoughts as they walked along the gypsum sand. They were surrounded by a silence Wanda had never experienced and she realized someone could easily die out here and simple disappear. She understood why her father had made his hideout in these dunes. After roughly fifteen minutes of dredging through sand a figure appeared, a tall black woman wrapped in a ragged trench coat with her hair in tight cornrows. She stood ramrod still and at attention.

"Magneto didn't tell me to expect children." Kitty opened her mouth to speak but Wanda cut her off.

"I'm his daughter. Call me child again and you're going to regret it." The woman ignored the threat and turned her back to the group.

"We don't have a lot of time. Follow me, it's not far. Magneto never told me he had a daughter." And Wanda caught the tone of an insult in the tall woman's voice. She balled her fists but felt Kitty's hand on her shoulder. She knew what her friend meant, there were more important matters at stake. So they followed the tall woman through the sands until they came upon a metal platform. The four women piled on it and descended below the sands, and when the platform stopped moving they stepped off and began the long walk down the metal hallway.

"Daughter," His voice boomed across the smooth metal walls as she stepped into the doorway of what served as his office. He had his helmet and cape, full regalia. Their eyes met and it was silent for a long time. Wanda and Magneto were clearly sizing each other up, and the other three had no desire to be the first one to break the tension. "So you're working for Charles now. Did he send you in order to make his victory all the sweeter?"

"I'm not a victory because I'm not a prize to be won. I came here because I have serious questions for you. Why can't I stand to be in the same room as my brother," Magneto remained silent but he was clearly in thought. Wanda waited a moment before continuing. "Actually, I have nothing but good memories of my childhood. And standing here, in this room, I'm realizing how weird that is. No fights, no bad gifts, no ruined vacations. It's like everything is idyllic and picture perfect but then why am I screwed up? Why are you looking at me now like I'm a piece of dogshit on your shoe? Huh? As long as you're sitting there with your look of sullen superiority why don't you answer me?" Wanda's voice was rising to a shout and her head felt light. It felt like she had a headache on the way.

"Because your memories aren't your memories. Because of my many transgressions one of my worst is what I did to you," Wanda heard him and her head began to swim, and she wasn't sure if her head was getting lighter or the news was hitting her so hard she could barely stand. "I paid a man to change everything your head because I feared you. I feared what you could do so I locked you up. I've championed the rights of mutants my whole life and said we should be free. And when you proved the slightest impediment to me and what I thought was my calling, I acted just like them." Wanda felt anger boiling up in her and she opened her mouth to speak but found she could barely lift her head. She braced herself on the edge of the desk but her legs felt weak and wobbly, like they were filled with TV static. When she tried to walk away from the desk her feet tripped over each other and she dropped to one knee. She felt his hand on her shoulder and as her eyelids began to droop the last thing that rang in her ears, besides the rushing of her own blood, was his voice. It was stripped of the usual pomp and instead it was soft and pleading.

"She's here. Whatever sins I have committed, time has come to collect. When you awaken I will be gone. I need you to find me."

Wanda came to several hours later. Her head pounded at the temples, a feeling shared by the other three women. They explored every inch of the hideout but, true to Magneto's word, he was gone. There was no evidence anyone beside them had entered or left. No signs of a fight or protruding fissures of metal. He had simply vanished, and the four mutants agreed it would be wise for them to do the same. They had either been spared or ignored and there was no reason to remain in unsafe space. They offered Joanna a ride which she hesitantly accepted. No one spoke much on the ride back to Xavier's mansion, least of all Wanda. All she did, for the entire three hour flight, was replay her short conversation with her father. Over and over, examine and renaming every word, his body language, the inflections. As soon as the jet landed in the hanger she made her way to Xavier's office, only one question on her mind.

"Professor? I need you to go inside my head."


	3. Chapter 2

Wanda, slightly out of breath, recounted the events of their mission. Once, then twice. Behind Xavier stood three floor to ceiling windows, letting in a breathtaking view of the cliffs at the edge of Xavier's estate. Closer, she could see a couple of the younger mutants playing some game involving sticks. Maybe pretend swords or pretend rayguns, she watched as one extended his arm far, like silly putty, grabbing on to a high branch. The other child, not to be deterred, disappeared with a flash of light, reappearing on an even higher branch. Their pretend game continued.

"Erik has done some questionable things but this might be one of the worst. This mystery woman he feared, did he mention who she was?"

"No, but that Joanna woman probably knows more. Look, I've been playing this over in my head for the last three hours-" Xavier put up a hand and motioned for Wanda to shut the door, which she did quickly before taking a seat. Xavier pulled at a long brass chain and the burgundy velvet curtains swung closed.

"I understand. I just told Katherine and Rogue to speak to Logan so we will be undisturbed. Here, sit down. Let's explore your memories," The setting sun peaked through the thick curtains as Xavier wheeled in front of Wanda. He rested his hands on his lap. In front of him, Wanda fidgeted slightly in the wooden chair.

"First, Wanda, I want you to clear your mind and concentrate on your breathing. You are going to be entering your own mind," With some difficulty Wanda clasped her hands in a copy of Xavier's. She took one deep breath, let it out, then repeated. "Now open your eyes." She glanced about at the darkened study.

"This looks…this looks exactly the same. Are you fucking with me?"

"No, Wanda, perhaps this would make you feel better?" Xavier waved his hand and the walls and ceiling disintegrated, leaving stars and nebulae, synapses firing all around them. Xavier then stood up, stretched his left leg, then his right. Wanda realized she was no longer sitting in a chair, but she couldn't call what she was doing standing either. She felt weightless, she could swing her arms and kick her legs but there was nothing solid behind them.

"You can walk?"

"In here I can. My only limit is my imagination. And yours. Go ahead, try something." Wanda arched an eyebrow and shrugged. She stared at the ground, or what approximated ground. She backed up, took a running start, and performed a double somersault, landing perfectly. She sprang to her feet and wiped some stray hair from her face.

"Neat trick, professor. So, how does this help?"

"We're going to explore your mindscape. Memories never go away, we simply lose our connections to them over time. Everything that makes you who you are is right in here." They floated through eternity. Above, Wanda watched different memories float by, New Orleans, Apocalypse, bad jobs, high school. As she witnessed her childhood, or what she had been told was her childhood, she became momentarily concerned.

"Professor, you're not going to look at my memories of Scott, are you?"

"Not if I can help it."

They walked through her memories for what seemed like hours, crossing through Wanda's childhood. They came across a heavy door, boarded up with chains running cris-cross like the old Saturday morning cartoons. Xavier stopped in front of it and studied it intently.

"This is the work of another telepath, someone very good," Xavier waved his hand, and the chains and boards disintegrated into dust, floating past Wanda's eyes like fairy dust. "Unfortunately for them, I am better." And he threw open the door. The two of them peered in, and in front of them played a zoetrope of images.

Wanda, her upper body secure in a straitjacket, sobbing on a rickety cot.

Erik, standing stock still in the rain and sheltering Pietro, the two figures growing fainter and fainter as she is dragged away, tossed over someone's shoulder like week-old garbage.

An orderly's face framed in silvery moonlight as he descends onto her, his face a mask of anger and lust.

"Professor, what is this?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"These are your real memories. This is what Erik thought was too difficult to deal with. With your permission, I'm going to restore your connections to these memories. I will warn you, this could be difficult."

"And a difficult truth is better than a comforting lie," Wanda said without hesitation. "Do it." Xavier nodded and with a wave of his hand, Wanda felt the flood of emotions as her anger suddenly made sense. The simmering rage she felt but could never place finally had an origin. For years, she would wake up in the middle of the night seething with fury, and she could never place it. She had sought inside her own head and come away with an answer she hadn't known she needed. She could feel her breathing becoming shallow and ragged and she could feel her vision begin to tunnel. Her stomach was filling with wet cement, a bulging knot dragging inside her. Xavier's voice cut through.

"I'm sorry, Wanda."

"I need to wake up now, Professor." And like that she was back in the chair, back in Xavier's office. Her hands gripped the sides of her seat like twin vices, slick with sweat as her nails had begun to dig into the wood. She could feel tears running down her cheeks and perspiration beaded on her chest.

* * *

The Danger Room was a lot of things to the residents of Xavier's mansion. It was a tool for education, a place where young mutants could learn to expand and grow their powers without fear of damaging their surroundings. It was for training, where members of the senior X-Men team could train and tone and run simulations of past missions. It was place Logan could use as a threat, and did so frequently. Sometimes, though, it was just a big, expensive punching bag. A multimillion dollar, computerized, advanced stress ball. For the last three hours, that was what Wanda had been employing it as. When Kitty had related the story to Scott, it was the first place he had checked. Below, Wanda bolted underneath a hovering Magneto. It was a hologram of course, as were the steel girders writing and crashing about. The danger was real, however, as Scott noted the safeties were off for this simulation. Her fists glowed a bright blue as she fired her hex bolts at the apparition. With a simulated wave of the hand Magneto appeared to move a single girder, snake-like, in Wanda's direction. If the girder struck her the program was designed to wrap about her and constrict. She parried left then dodged right, and she fired another bolt, this one enveloping the girder and turning it to plastic. Robbed of its ferrous components it tumbled behind her to the ground. She took the advantage, launching a volley of bolts towards the fake Magneto-thing until the computer program registered a win for signature Maximoff, Wanda. As he hit the intercom button he noted the number of times she had run the program, it was in the triple digits. She stepped over the simulated debris and answered the call.

"I'm busy."

"It's Scott. You've been in there for hours."

"I know, I've broken a lot of robots, Scott."

"Well, Forge likes to put robots together so I don't think it'll be a problem. How would you feel if I came down there?" He heard the intercom click off for several moments and Scott held a breath without trying.

"Please bring water."

Wanda gulped two whole thermoses of water before speaking. Scott and Wanda sat next to each other, both with their knees drawn to their chests. The room was empty now, big bright lights on the ceiling reflecting off polished blue metal. "And then Charles goes in my head? He made up an entire childhood and forced it into my head. Everything I've lived is a lie. What do I do next?" Scott hugged her as she sobbed out of anger and exhaustion.

"You know, you've already beat him. Think about the good you've done with team. He thought you'd never control your powers, but now you're using them to make the world a better place."

"You know, Logan's right. You are a boy scout." Wanda let out a soft laugh as her shoulders heaved slightly, her sobs subsiding.

"Gross. That means you're in love with a boy scout." Their embrace tightened as they both chuckled and they stayed that way for several moments.

"Scott, I adore you. But I'm going to need some time to process this. Meditation maybe? I don't know, maybe I'll just break more robots. But this isn't something I'm going to process overnight. I don't think there's a lot of books on what to do when your father has a telepath make up an entire childhood." Scott kissed her cheek and asked her what her plans were now that she knew.

"Well, I have to find him. I don't know what I'm going to do what I find him," Wanda said after a few minutes of thinking. "But I'll be damned if I let someone else do my dirty work. He's going to answer for this and I'll walk through whatever he puts up. But before I do that, I need information. So, who do you know around here that's good at finding information?"

* * *

"Gambit, I need you." He and Rogue lay prone across the bed with a laptop flashing. Gambit had the dark top sheet pulled up to the middle of his chest and Rogue had one gloved arm draped across his abdomen. From the computer Wanda could hear Italian being spoken amid gunshots. They were the loud, exaggerated gunshots of old movies, loud explosions with nothing behind them. They're called blanks because there's nothing to them, just a hollow noise and the illusion of danger. Darting her green eyes between Remy and Wanda, Rogue arched an eyebrow. "Come on, not like that."

"Can't be too careful with this one. I think that's my cue to leave, sugah." As Rogue strutted out of the room Wanda noticed him draw the computer over his lap.

"Your timing be impeccable as usual, chere. What's got ya storming through my door?" Wanda pushed the door closed behind her. She was beginning to get along with most of the residents of the mansion but gossip still spread fast.

"I need some information and the only way to get it is sketchy and borderline illegal."

"Sounds like you came to the right person. Where we going?"

* * *

Pietro's eyes opened slowly. Although sleep still crowded at the corner of his eyes, he knew something wasn't right. His hair hung away from his face and his blankets weren't wrapped around his body. He went to reach for them and found he couldn't move. That was when he noticed the blue energy enveloping him. He realized that he was suspended in midair, with his sister and Gambit standing on the roof of the brotherhood house. Pietro was no longer tired.

"Ok Pietro this is how things are going to work. I've been training a lot with my powers, but the thing is it takes a lot of concentration to keep you up here. Lying to me wrecks that concentration, because I have to think about your lies and how angry they make me. True statements help me keep my concentration, so I would recommend true statements." Wanda, with great effort, moved Pietro until he was no longer above the roof but three stories above solid earth.

"My first question, what do you know about Magneto changing my memories?" Pietro began to stammer before he felt the support give way and his innards jumped. Before he had plummeted two feet, he felt his sister's energy catch him. "That was a test. I told you, lying distracts me."

"I didn't even have a chance to say anything. I stammered!"

"Then don't do that either," Pietro violently shook his head in the affirmative. "Good. I know you probably knew about Dad changing everything in my head, to make him this great father he could never live up to. I want to know who did it."

"Mastermind. It was Mastermind, Jason Wyngarde, Dad hired him before, he likes him because he stays quiet about the work."

"Mon dieu you give him up easily. Hope nobody else using you to keep secrets."

"Shut up, Gambit, this is a family matter." Upon hearing that, Wanda brought Pietro back over the roof and dropped him. Before he could scramble to his feet, she was on top of him with one hand wrapped tightly around his throat. She pulled him up until their eyes met and their noses were millimeters apart.

"Let me get one thing straight with you. We are not family. Not anymore. You lost that right when you and Magneto went into my head. And if you never see me again, you should consider yourself very lucky." As she lifted the door to the attic, she looked back at Pietro, who had drawn his knees to his chest and was staring out into the distance. They made their way through the rest of the house without incident. If their presence on the roof had woken anyone, Pietro's screams had been enough to keep them in their beds.

"I'll be honest, I thought you were gonna drop him."

"I almost did." Wanda put a hand to her head; she felt dizzy and her steps became shorter. Gambit hooked an arm under her shoulder and settled her into the passenger seat. She was asleep before the car door shut.


	4. Chapter 3

Wanda opened her eyes slowly. The ceiling of her bedroom greeted her warmly, as did the sheets wrapped about her. Her head pounded and her mouth was dry, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and her lips were chapped. Her stomach was an empty pit and it growled in anger. She hugged the crumpled comforter closer to herself as she flipped from one side to another. The events of the past night trickled through her thoughts slowly, and she took several minutes to confirm that the night before had indeed happened.

"How are you feeling," Scott came in from the balcony and motioned towards a glass of water on the nightstand. The noonday sun poked through the curtains sharp and bright. Wanda gulped it down and Scott refilled it in the bathroom sink. Hearing no answer from her, Scott continued. "You were out cold when Remy brought you back. He said you held Pietro for twenty minutes." Wanda heard faint pride hiding behind the concern in his voice. She set the empty glass on the nightstand and ignored the bloating in her stomach from drinking too fast.

"Three stories up over solid earth. I've never lifted anything over ten pounds before."

"Why did you take Remy?" Wanda shot Scott an odd look. "I mean, to talk to your brother-"

"Don't call him my brother." Wanda's words hung cold and Scott cleared his throat before continuing.

"To talk to Pietro, then. One minute we're in the Danger Room, the next thing I know Remy is carrying you through the front door, looking like death with blood coming out of your nose."

"Oh, is my darling suitor concerned for delicate sensibilities?" She drew a hand to her chest and batted her eyelashes. Scott took a seat next to her on the bed.

"I'm serious. You said it yourself, your entire worldview has changed. I'm worried about you, and I want to know you're ok."

"I'm pretty sure there's no 'Sorry I scrambled your brains so I could concentrate on my own bullshit' Hallmark card. I'm kind of in uncharted territory, babe." She wrapped her fingers around his. "Pietro gave me a name, and after that bastard I'll find Magneto and I need you to trust me to do this my way."

"This isn't a matter of trust, Wanda, it's a matter of being involved in this with you." Wanda looked off to the side and chewed her lower lip. Silence entered the room like a cloud, and when Wanda turned back to Scott to break it her eyes shone bright blue, even in the darkened bedroom.

"Ok. Then let's drive to New York. Right now. I know someone there, one of his powers is he can find any mutant. Well, just about any mutant." Scott noticed her change in tone at the end before the full weight of everything she had asked came on him like a wave, crashing against his senses. Questions screamed through his head but the first one to make it from his brain to his mouth was

"And when we find this Mastermind? What then?"

"I'm going to do to him exactly what he did to me." She found his hand and squeezed it tight and Scott was suddenly aware of his keys, sitting oddly in his jeans and jabbing part of his thigh.

* * *

Politicians like to describe New York City as a melting pot. In reality it is another kitchen implement; a meat grinder. Thousands of lives searching for an opportunity get tossed together without a thought, jumbled together with no more than haphazard concern. The slop at the bottom, that's M-Town, five blocks in one of the poorest sections of the entire city, all mutant blood, rejects among rejects. The cops avoid it unless they're drunk and looking for a fight, and even then it's only the most foolhardy ones. And if they're not looking for a fight, it's best not to ask. As the sun dips below the crumbling tenement structures and rusting water towers Scott and Wanda find themselves among a bustling crowd. It may be known as the city that never sleeps, but M-Town is really only alive at night, when the people who think they run the city have retired to their penthouses and townhomes. They draw the curtains tight and hug their families as the alleyways and open air markets spring to life.

"Hey, Wanda," Scott gestured toward a table of various lengths of rope. "Maybe we should pick up a couple of these." Wanda felt a smile tug at the edges of her lips.

"I love the idea, but also absolutely not why we're here. Come on, he told me where to meet them." As they slipped and pushed their way through the crowd, Wanda reflected on the last time they had been in New York, the way she had Scott had danced on the rooftops and how beautiful it had looked from a distance. Up close, the city bared its scars and leered.

"Hey, over here," a voice called and Wanda looked past the tent selling handmade jewelry into the shadows beyond. It was Even Daniels, but she barely recognized him. His forehead was a mass of bone and his arms covered in thick chitinous plates. Sharp spikes jutted from his back and his torso. He led the group past kiosks and tents. For many of these mutants, their business was also their home. In a history book once Wanda had seen pictures of Hoovertowns, homeless encampments that sprung up during the Great Depression. She realized that it had never ended, the people in power had just decided that anyone still trapped in it was an acceptable loss. Minding the spikes, Scott gave the man a deep hug. As he shook Wanda's hand he spoke,"So you're part of the team now? How do you like it?"

"I'm doing more than I did before. Is Caliban close?"

"I'm taking you to him. Someone was looking for him recently, so he made himself scarce to the outside world. Moreso than usual." At the dead end of an alley Evan kneeled and pulled open a manhole cover into which the group descended. The interior of this sewer was crumbling brick and surprisingly well lit by strings of lights. They ran along the wall, near the top and wrapped about whatever holds they could find, nails stuck in grout and gas lamps long past use. "This part of the sewer is unused, in case any of you were wondering. They're all over New York, the city closes sections off all the time in the name of progress. We move every few months, it makes us harder to track." The group fell silent for a time and the only sound was bootstraps on brick. Mutants all over lived like this. Itinerant wanderers under stress, refugees of a war they were fighting only by virtue of birth. Frightened huddled into alcoves as the three made their way through the old tunnels. From some adjacent room she heard a baby's cry, and Wanda wondered how long until the child saw sunlight. Would they eat food the wasn't scavenged or stolen? These were the people her father was claiming to help, weren't they? Those poor, downtrodden souls he waxed poetic about, they were here.

"Caliban can locate any mutant." Wanda peeled off a roll of bills and handed to the mutant, then told him the name. Caliban glanced to Evan, then at the money before handing several bills back to Wanda.

"Caliban knows where Mr. Wyngarde is. Mr. Wyngarde has been selling information about us. Mr. Wyngarde is responsible for making us hide even more than is usually necessary. Caliban would be most appreciative if misfortune befell Mr. Wyngarde. Useful." Wanda nodded as Evan patted Caliban on the shoulder and walked off with Scott, several feet away from the rest of the group.

"How has life been at the mansion." Scott gave Evan a brief overview of the story. Other than a brief eyebrow raise when he mentioned his relationship with Wanda, Evan did not outwardly react to any of the news. They let a beat of silence pass between them before Scott finally asked his nagging question.

"Have you talked to Ororo at all?"

"Not in some time. How is she?"

"She's been good. She'd like to hear from you." Evan's shoulders sagged.

"I know. We've been on the move a lot lately. These guys need a lot of help, and I feel like I'm making a difference. I never felt like that at the mansion. I'm sorry, but it's true." Scott stood for a second, taking in what Evan had said. He then grasped Evan in a tight hug before saying,

"Just stay safe. Get in touch when you can." Evan asked if Scott could find his way out of the sewer and Scott nodded. "Good. We're probably moving again tonight. Callisto has been paranoid lately, more than usual. But that's the thing about paranoia. She's only got to be right once for it all to pay off." Evan wandered back to the group, towards a small green skinned boy. By the way Evan's bone plating faded, he guessed it was Leech. Evan went down on his haunches, the two in a quick but deep discussion. Caliban wandered away from Wanda and sat with his back to a wall. They left quietly, and the way they came. Their footsteps were ordered and neat and Wanda noticed she could no longer hear any cries. A sick feeling gripped at the base of her stomach.

"Caliban says he lives right here in M-Town," Wanda said as she fitted the manhole cover back and brushed her hands several times. "Apparently he's a big gambler because we've got to go two blocks over, where the games are."

* * *

It took them less than thirty minutes to locate Mastermind. Wanda later wondered if she could have just followed the smell and the cursing to the group huddled around a torn piece of stained cardboard. Dice rolled over and over, the corrugation making an ugly hollow sound as the plastic rolled, again and again. It made men fortunes in an instant and losers even faster. That was when Wanda caught it, even from her vantage point, away from the group against a metal fencepost. The dice roll was one two three. Loss of all bets, but then people started clapping his back and he scooped up the money and tossed the dice into the dealer's awaiting hand. The move was quick, before anyone could confirm, and he slipped into a passing crowd. Caliban had come through yet again, and Wanda moved with the tail end of the crowd in Mastermind's direction.

It happened in a moment. She had looked back, hoping to catch Scott's face in the crowd. When she swung back she caught Jason's eye. It was hardly a moment but Wanda felt it in her bones. She felt as if a great spotlight had focused on her and she became aware of her bright red coat. Of course I had to be the Scarlet Witch. I couldn't be the grey witch, or the brown witch, or the blends into the damn background witch. Nope, the bright as fuck look at me Scarlet Witch. She slipped behind a clump of people looking through a produce stand, but Jason barely paused before slipping down a side alley. Wanda counted to ten and then pushed through towards the alleyway.

Mastermind ducked into a dilapidated tenement building. Wanda put her hand to a brick wall, it came back covered in soot and grime. The garbage smell cooked around her and she sweat, even in the evening air. By the entrance she saw the haunted faces of broken men, stewing in their own filth and slugging from cheap bottles of gin. They reached out towards Wanda as she passed, their words garbled by alcohol and gum disease. The lock to the door was broken and covered in rust, and when she pushed it open the screws came apart from the jamb entirely, the deafening sound as the steel door landed echoing off the tobacco stained walls up the stairwell. Wanda let out a sigh somewhere between resignation and disgust as she stepped over the wreckage and up the stairs.

Wanda rounded the corner and there stood Magneto, cruel smile beneath his helmet.

"Hello daughter. I understand you've been looking for me.

Wanda's heart skipped a beat. Her pupils dilated as adrenaline shot through her veins.

She balled her fists and they glowed a hard blue.

She took a breath.

She thought of her training. Anyone who lived with the X-men received psychic training, and the first lesson was how to keep a telepath out. Xavier called it a trust exercise, to show he never probed a mind without permission. She shut her eyes. She pictured walls, big brick walls around her mind. Her head, surrounded by impenetrable walls and an uncrossable moat. Her brain completely surrounded, cocooned from harm.

An island, in the middle of an inky black sea, utterly and completely untethered.

She opened her eyes. Her temples throbbed with a dull ache she knew wouldn't abate anytime soon, but her training had worked. There was no longer a Magneto standing in front of her. She tapped at her communicator and quickly spoke into it.

"Scott, he knows we're here."

* * *

Scott knew he hadn't made a wrong turn. Moving around without his eyesight for years had made him actively aware of his surroundings. He tried to ask a couple of the homeless drunks kneeling in the alleyway grime, but those that weren't passed out were well past the point of coherency. He pitied whatever misfortune and systemic failures had led them to their squalid condition, but it was beyond his control. He moved deeper into the alleyway, taking a left down a dead end. The thick wooden fence, papered with years of posters and flyers, seemed to mock him with a cruel indifference.

"So she gave ya the slip. Had to figure she would, sooner or later. Get her fling and get gone." Logan's voice next to him, walking out from the shadows. But, his voice was different, off. It sounded like it was going through an old drive thru speaker and it made his head ache at the temples. His psychic barriers. He had lived with two of the world's most powerful minds since adolescence. He could feel something prying about, squeezing and worming its bitter way into whatever cracks it could find. It was a scavenger, an opportunist with something ripe in its mouth.

"How long did you really give her? I mean, the daughter of Magneto? That psychopath? Apples never fall far from the tree, remember that." Scott's brain searched for the right word, but all that seemed to come up was out of sync. Like Logan was a bad dub of himself. Then his communicator crackled to life and confirmed what his brain was already telling him.

"Scott, he knows we're here." Scott's face tightened into a grimace and he fired off a large angry blast from his visor. The Logan-thing disappeared with a clipped chuckle, and the only other victim of Scott's assault were a pair of old trash cans. He stared for a long time, balling his fists and imaging tearing the remnants of his destruction to shreds with his bare hands. He was being taunted with his own insecurities, in a filthy alleyway being stung by something that wasn't even there. But it did exist.

* * *

Wanda made it to the top floor, and by this point there was a throbbing dull ache radiating through her entire head. Her eyes felt heavy and two big for her sockets and her jaw clenched shut. It felt like her head was stuck in a bucket of cement. She held a hand to the fading tobacco stained wall and bent at the waist, taking in several deep breaths. She let the last one out with a ragged, guttural noise. She paused a few more moments at the landing before continuing on, reminding herself that the headache was not the main cause of her revenge. However, it had easily made the list.

At the end of the hall, she pushed open the flimsy door to see Jason wiggling his fingers in front of him, unaware that Wanda had been immune to his dubious charms since three floors down. She fired a hex bolt towards his barren cabinets that stopped him cold, swinging his wide eyes between her hand and his destroyed wall several times.

"Shit."

"You need a new nickname. Mastermind just doesn't do it justice." She stepped slowly through the door as Jason sat down at his dilapidated kitchen table, one of four pieces of dilapidated, uneven furniture contained in the apartment. His darted wildly around for a moment, hunting for an escape, before realizing there was none. Wanda counted a stained recliner that, evidenced by the crumpled sheets on the floor, doubled as a bed. The only other decoration was a small ancient tv, cracked in one corner and supported by a used orange crate. In the walls she could hear the scuttle and chewing of rats, hundreds of them crawling over each other in the dark. There was no stove, just an old hot plate covered in dried food.

"Grab a seat, then. I always wondered when you'd figure out what your old man did." Jason scratched at his unkempt beard as he settled into the wooden kitchen chair. He stared up at Wanda expectantly, like the condensed who's beaten their executioner to the gallows' pole.

"I want to know why you did it." Wanda leaned her knuckles into the small kitchen table, looming over Jason. Outside a half moon hung in the sky and sirens crescendoed.

"Because he paid me." A hostile silence settled over the table. Neither moved. Wanda could feel her nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms but her blue eyes never broke contact with Jason. He met her gaze with brown eyes that contained all the sparkle and glimmer of an old mud puddle. Finally he broke the silence. "You came here for something more, didn't you? Well, sorry, the world isn't like that. Your father called me and paid me and I did what he wanted. And I ain't even got the money anymore, so why don't you kill me and get it over with?"

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you. You scrambled my brain, I'm returning the favor." And her hands began to glow.


	5. Chapter 4

Remy sat across from the television, boredom hammering out a repetitious tattoo across his brain. His stocking clad feet were propped one over another on the coffee table and his right arm stretched empty across the back of the couch. The movie Face/Off, a long-time favorite of his, played across the television. He had seen it so many times he could have left the room still quoting the script. Still, it amused him and it was something he was in dire need of. Much of the X-men team was off with the Avengers, some mutant outreach goodwill…now that he looked back, Remy couldn't remember. What he was presently aware of was that the mansion was mostly empty and the people that were still there had managed to find actual chores to accomplish.

When the door to the garage slid open, then closed silently, Remy perked up momentarily. He smelled the man before he heard him, limping into the room on uneven legs. Remy heard a growl fester inside Logan's throat as he moved for a chair. Thin wisps of smoke curled from his patchy mussed hair. His costume, never pristine on the best of days, hung from several spots in ragged strips. As Logan set himself down in a chair across from Remy, he wondered if he really heard metal grinding against metal or if that was his imagination. As long as he was banishing thoughts to that realm, he snuck one more glance at the blood stains that dotted what was left of the yellow fabric.

"Long night?"

"Better than some." Remy produced a flask from his jeans and shook it Logan's way, who accepted the flask gratefully and took a swallow. He sniffed at the mouth of the flask.

"Quit going into my damn liquor cabinet."

"Won't ever happen again." The two men were briefly drawn in by the sight of Nicholas Cage monologuing about the removal of faces. Remy attempted to ask about Logan's condition but Logan waved him off, not wanting to talk about, and they allowed themselves to settle into an easy silence, the kind men call bonding.

As the movie wrapped to a close, with John Travolta reuniting with his family, Kitty appeared behind them.

"Remy, how many times have you watched this movie?"

"Don't know, but it holds up every time." Kitty rolled her eyes and turned to Logan as Remy repeated an endorsement of Nicholas Cage.

"Long night, Logan?"

"Why does everyone ask me that? It ain't even eight o'clock." Kitty shook her head and turned back to Remy, who had popped the disc out from the side of the television and was replacing it to its sleeve.

"Hey, I came down to ask if you've seen Scott or Wanda anywhere? I'm running some new Danger Room scenarios and thought they might like to test it. I'm sure Wanda wouldn't mind fighting a few more robots." Remy shook his head.

"Ain't seen either one all day, but if I had to guess she probably chasing after Mastermind, and Scott gone with her." Remy turned from the tv to questioning stares from both Kitty and Logan. Laying the case down next to the television, he went through his part in taking Wanda over to the Brotherhood flophouse and the information she had forcibly extracted from her brother. As he completed his story he could see Wolverine resting one elbow on the armrest of his chair, grumbling to himself. Kitty had stolen Remy's seat on the couch, her jaw slack.

"Kitty, make sure the backup jet is refueled. I'm gonna head upstairs to change my clothes and fantasize about throwing Gambit off a cliff." Logan stalked toward the stairs as Remy called after him.

"All I'm hearing is that you fantasize about me, and I choose to take it as a compliment."

* * *

Scott leaned against the crumbling plaster of the apartment. Wanda wore down the faded linoleum further as she paced about the matchbox apartment. Scott made brief eye contact with Jason Wyngarde, his slack form half-prone on the kitchen table. Wyngarde, apart from a particularly large puddle of drool, contributed very little to the tense conversation.

"So, what do we do now?" Scott asked after a prolonged bit of silence.

"I don't know, Scott. I don't have a plan. I thought I would feel better when I confronted him. Then that didn't work, so I fed his wormy little brains to a blender, and I still don't feel better," Wanda huffed through her nose. "So now I feel like I'm out of ideas."

"Why not just find Magneto? If Caliban is as powerful as you say-"

"I've tried. Caliban always says he's too powerful, powers have limits, whatever. But it sounded like Caliban had some acquatance with Jason. Maybe he knows if he had visitors," Wanda paused to look about the sparse dwelling. "Or if he visited somewhere else. You know, the more likely of the two."

"So, let's go back. What are we going to do with him in the meantime?" Scott gestured toward Mastermind, who offered no suggestions.

"What about him? He's fine, having the time of his life. Picture of health and good cheer." It was that moment that gravity took its moment to shine, and Jason's dead weight shifted enough to send him tumbling to the floor. The cheap wooden chair shot out from under him, clattering across the floor and breaking a spindle. If the fall hurt Jason, he made no complaints as Wanda narrowed her eyes.

"Ugh. Don't say anything, just help me pick him up."

* * *

Pietro glanced towards the stairs as he heard Todd on the steps, along with whatever woman he'd managed to pick up at the closest dive bar. Pietro could smell stale cigarettes and malt liquor from his perch on the couch. A small part of him conceded that he could be smelling the living room, the kitchen, or any single part of the house where a bunch of unmotivated boys lived in a constant state of arrested development. On another night he'd be annoyed that Todd had brought someone home and he hadn't, but not tonight. His thoughts were elsewhere, still suspended three stories in the air like they had been for the last twenty-four hours. He grabbed the controller and flipped to another show, he didn't even look at the title. It was enough to have noise in the background, to drown out the anxiety currently rampaging through his thoughts. He drummed his fingers atop the couch cushion, he taped his toes rapidly underneath the table, lay his feet prone across the table, then switched back to toe tapping. He played with the volume in expectation of the noises emanating from upstairs. In past days he might have tried to talk the girl up before Todd brought her upstairs, knowing Todd wouldn't fight back. _But I'm changing. I'm going to be better than I was._ He mentally patted himself on the back and flipped through another on-screen menu when the power cut off.  
It was a common occurrence in the brotherhood house. There was little in the way of repair money floating around Every resident saw it as someone else's problem because no one could agree on ownership or seniority. As far as they knew, Mystique still held ownership but they couldn't even agree on the last time she'd been seen. Eventually the arguments would turn personal, then to drinking, and then when they all sobered up no one could remember what sparked the argument.

_And brave Pietro goes to turn on the breakers, without being asked, out of the kindness of his heart._ He grinned at his own thoughts. Turning over a new leaf would be easy. He picked himself off the couch with a flourish…  
…And began sinking into the floor. This was an unwelcome development and only partially because the living room carpet was horrendously filthy. He knew this meant more of his least favorite people were nearby. He tried to run but couldn't, and when he swung his head around, he caught the glint of razor-sharp points in the dark, catching the glint of an outside streetlight. He gulped as the floor closed around his waist and Kitty Pryde appeared out of the floor next to him. She barely registered to him as Logan knelt down and brought his claws to eye level.

"Heya, Quicksilver." He could see him grinning in the darkness. Behind him Gambit was propped against a doorjamb. Pietro, with death at eye level, couldn't contain his emotions and snarled.

"What happened, Swamp-Scum, last night on the roof wasn't enough?" His threats were cut off as Logan traced one of his claws down Pietro's cheek, drawing a thin line of blood and drying up his throat like autumn leaves in New England as Logan went down to his haunches.

"Gambit ain't talking to you. I am. So let's us have a nice chat and Shadowcat won't take her hand off your shoulder and cut your skinny ass in half," Pietro felt a hand on his shoulder and darted his eyes down to the stained carpet at waist level. He nodded as beads of sweat dotted his hairline.

"Now, heard you and the Witch had a little conversation last night. We're looking for the location of the subject of that little chat." Pietro began babbling and sputtering. A part of his mind wondered if Todd and his date could hear anything, or maybe Fred would walk through the door. But he gave up the thought as quickly as it came to him. Todd was only thinking about one thing right now, and if Fred hadn't come home with him that meant he was still at the bar winning drinking contests. Finally Pietro managed to squeak out a full sentence.

"I don't know. I don't know where he is. Look, I never talked to the guy, dad just told me what happened. He said it was better for all of us, it would give him more time to concentrate. I didn't know anything about it." His voice grew to a whiny whisper and he darted his head around in a vain attempt to find sympathy. Logan's face remained impassive, but he could see the disgust plainly on the faces of Kitty and Remy.

"If you don't know where he is, then I can't see what use you are. Kitty, let go, see if Mastermind can dream him up a new pair of legs or something."

"Wait, wait, wait, no, no. Nononononon, listen to me, listen to me, and listen like crazy. If Wanda is out there looking for anyone there's a guy she always goes to. It's how she's found me before. He lives in the sewers in New York," Pietro couldn't help but put a spin of disgust on the word sewer. "I can take you to him."

"Nice a' you to offer, but we already got a Morlock connection, and I ain't got time for any more sales pitches." Logan turned around as he stood up and waved a hand in Kitty's direction. Pietro opened his mouth to scream as he felt Kitty's hands leave his shoulder but no sound came out and his next sensation was crashing into concrete, hard. He spun his head around, he had landed in the basement. He checked his midsection anyway, still in one piece. He took a quick moment to admire the six pack barely concealed underneath his T-shirt before bolting up the stairs at a speed that surprised even him, catching himself as his three antagonists.

"Look, please take me with you, let me help you find her," Logan looked annoyed but Pietro couldn't tell if that was because of his question or not. "Look, I'll do anything. I'll carry bags, I won't talk, but please let me help her. Gambit, you heard what she said, up there on the roof, and she was right. I shouldn't have let dad do that to her but I did and I did nothing to stop it. So even if she never speaks to me again, let me do this." There was a beat, silence as Remy and Kitty glanced between each other, before Logan snagged Pietro's shirt collar and pulled him to eye level.

"You had me at 'won't talk'." Logan let go of his shirt without another word.

* * *

They left Wyngarde in the backseat of Wanda's car, half covered with a blanket to make him look as much like a passed out drunk as was possible. The alleys were much less crowded than when they had arrived in M-Town, with lost souls wandering aimlessly or an occasional couple making out. The tent flaps were closed and most sales were done for the night, although a few dedicated merchants still hoped for one or two more sales of windowsill-grown vegetables and hand carved furniture. Wanda clutched Scott's hand as they walked through, the market somehow more claustrophobic. The voices had helped her feel anonymous, one of a million faces free to move about the world. Out here she wasn't a member of the X-men or the Scarlet Witch, she was simply part of a crowd. For even a moment, she could have pretended that her father hadn't paid a man to throw her brain into a blender. She hadn't been duped into loving a family based on a lie.

She was momentarily shaken from her thoughts by Scott's hushed voice, calling her behind a zippered sales kiosk. Ahead of them, a trio of men in body armor and bandoliers marched down the concrete. The camo body armor had the opposite of its intended effect; the men stood out like unicorns in a cow pasture.

"Maybe they're just dressed like that. You know, for fun." Wanda suggested.

"Yea. Late night snack run, they all got the munchies or something."

"Yea. You definitely need to strap up when you grab those midnight burritos." They were trying to convince themselves this crowd of mercy was heading anywhere else. Neither was dressed for a confrontation. They had dressed casually to blend in with a crowd, a smart plan for tracing one errant mutant, but loafers and jeans weren't great for fighting. Scott and Wanda said nothing as they moved as quietly as they could. Wanda felt a small headache at the back of her eyes, she chalked it up to stress and a long day. They walked in single file, letting one's footsteps fall where the other's had landed. In her head Wanda's breathing felt amplified and she swore it was echoing around her. There was a drip splashing into old grout, the scuttle of server rats from the shadows. Wanda became aware of her breath going in and out, straining her ears for the slightest sound. Surrounded by that crumbling brickwork of an alleyway an old memory made new wormed its way out from the shadows of her grey matter.

She was still young but newly a teenager. In a more innocent mind they would begin thinking of themselves as adults. Wandas had not been an innocent mind in some time. In a good mental health clinic the goal is to provide the best help possible to those made vulnerable by forces beyond their control. This was not a good hospital, and so the goals became fear, and abuse, and torture of the mind. And young Wanda, all of thirteen, had become sadly accustomed to it. The room without locks because there were no doors, and the staff that treated her like an object when they treated her at all. Though she had not allowed this neglect to turn inward. She had kept her mind as sharp as could be, had learned cheats and weaknesses to find small respites. If she faked a sickness for example, they had no choice but to take her to the infirmary. If that visit landed on a Friday it might just happen that an orderly was feeling a little lazy, in too much of a hurry for the weekend, that they might just be a tiny bit neglectful in securing her straitjacket. Her luck had held, or in her shattered state what passed for luck. She gingerly shimmied out of bed, touching one sock-clad foot to the floor, then the other.

A cookie. All she wanted was a cookie, and she knew where they kept them. So she padded down the cool smooth floor in her bare feet. The smooth hospital floor was slick against her socks but she felt traction was a worthy sacrifice to stealth.

"Wanda?" Scott's voice cut through her fog, and with a single finger he wiped a tear from her cheek. She entwined her fingers in his.

"I'm sorry, I just had a memory come back, something from the," she trailed off, not wanting to speak the word aloud. "The asylum. Scott, I don't know what kind of therapy I'm going to need after this, but right now I really need to know why I've got this splitting-"

Wanda let out a cry first, grabbing at her temples through instinct as she sank to her knees and let out a shout. She fell to her side as Scott went down to his knees. She had been training against psychic attacks but she was still a novice, and what few walls she had managed to construct shattered like day old ice sliding off a roof. Scott had more years of training but when she managed a quick glance at Scott through the pain he was curled into the fetal position same as her. As her vision tunneled a pair of steel toed boots appeared near her face, the kind favored by closet fascists everywhere.

"Leave four eyes for the rats. Boss wants the girl." Wanda felt like her head was being juiced and she was convinced she was about to die. She wasn't sure if Scott was still conscious or not. She could barely open her eyes enough to see the faded clay in front of her face. She knew there was only one chance, she felt her hands glow, she did not even have time to aim. She felt it go out in one burst, filling the cavernous tunnel.

She didn't look for a long time, until she realized that the crushing weight inside her skull had gone, replaced by silence. She shook Scott by the shoulder and raised her head slightly, and they both fell silent upon the sight, a live action Salvador Dali greeting them with grinning horror.

* * *

"Is he dead?"

"He looks dead."

"He ain't dead. He's breathing, but he sure don't look like he's having fun." Logan, Remy and Kitty crowded around the locked window of Wanda's car. Once in New York, they had followed the scent of the trail to Wyngarde's apartment first Remy leaned against the car while Kitty pressed her face against the window. Pietro hung back, somewhat mindful of his promise, but he had also seen Wyngarde passed out before and felt the memory was enough. Logan extended a single claw into the lock and yanked the mechanism out. It clattered to the ground as Logan flipped the blanket off of Jason and dug through his pockets at a manic pace, finally happening upon a faded leather wallet with an ID card stuck inside.

"What are you so mad about? You a man that takes revenge trips like vacations."

"I agree with Remy.

"You already said he looks dead."

"No, but, that too. You've wandered off on more than your share of revenge trips, Logan, and you've dragged some of us along for the ride. How is Wanda any different?"

"I heal. She don't. Look, his license says he lives a few blocks from here. But I've also got a scent trail going in the opposite direction." Logan grumbled through the lighting off a cigar before lookin g at Kitty and speaking again.

"Ok, Shadowcat, you're the one I trust most out of this group, not like there's a real contest or anything, so you take the one who's annoying and fast to go check out Wyngarde's apartment. I'm gonna take the one that's annoying and loud and go find the lovebirds." Remy gently elbowed Pietro in the ribs and grinned.

"He called you annoying mon ami."

"He called you annoying too."

"Yea, but he said it about you first."

* * *

Kitty and Pietro were able to find the apartment building with relative ease, although it was mostly Kitty following her gps while Pietro quietly grumbled. They slipped down the alleyway unnoticed, for they had neither stimulants nor information, the only two things anyone was looking to buy. The metal door was still laying prone inside the doorway. Hearing heavy footfalls above them, Kitty motioned to Pietro before she phased up through the rebar and concrete, then immediately back down. She had spotted five commandos, armed and angry. They carried modified rifles with mean looking insignia and a distaste for the world as it was.

"Rarely a good combination for mutants. And they're all talking about one thing, Jason Wyngarde. I don't think they'll appreciate Wanda getting there first." She reported to Pietro, who had opened a dating app on his phone and was scanning through it. Kitty was annoyed but chose not to point it out at the moment.

"How many people are looking for one drunk broke telepath?"

"At the moment, at least seven."

* * *

A/N: Hey, if you happen upon this story, please take a moment to leave a review, even if it is only a few words. I'd love to know what people think about my writing. I'm hoping there are people out there enjoying it.


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